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Tony wasn’t startled by Peter walking into the lab with his Spider-Man suit bunched up in one hand,. Unfortunately, repairing the suit after Peter’s patrols had become far too common for his liking. But as long as the kid wasn’t bleeding or nursing broken bones, Tony could deal with what was apparently his now second side career as Spider-Man’s seamstress.
What did startle him, however, was the fact that it was three-thirty on a Thursday afternoon. At least, Tony was pretty sure it was.
“Decathlon practice cancelled today, kid?” he greeted Peter, subtly checking his phone.
Yep, it was definitely Thursday.
Peter slumped onto a chair near Tony’s workstation, dropping his backpack at his feet. “Something like that,” he muttered, dumping the Spider-Man suit onto the table.
Tony frowned, putting down the wrench in his hand and moving closer to Peter.
He’d only seen the kid the night before for his internship, and Peter had been his usual self. Bright, chatty. Peter.
Not this.
“What happened?”
Peter ran his hands along the suit until they came to a tear. “There was this nail-”
Tony grabbed the suit from Peter’s hands, tossing it towards the other end of the bench for him to work on later.
“Not the suit. What happened at school?”
Peter looked to him with wide eyes. “Nothing.”
Tony’s eyebrow rose ever so slightly. It was enough to make Peter’s shoulders drop further though and he stared at the table.
“Nothing happened,” he said again. “I’m just… I’m thinking of dropping Decathlon.”
Tony paused, then reached out with his foot to snag another chair and drag it closer for him to sit down.
“Why, Pete?” he asked.
Peter shrugged. “More free time?”
Tony rolled his eyes, reaching out to grasp Peter’s jaw firmly but gently, making Peter turn his gaze towards him.
“Uh huh. Want to try the truth this time, Underoos?”
Peter’s cheeks flushed as he averted his gaze. “It’s dumb,” he muttered.
Tony’s face softened, moving his hand to rest on Peter’s back. “I highly doubt that, bud,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s up.”
Peter still wouldn’t look at him.
“MJ wants to have a team dinner to start off the season,” he said quietly. “A potluck thing. Not just ordering pizza or takeout. Parents coming and everything.”
Tony’s brow furrowed, trying to figure out what the issue was there. He knew it always stung a little for Peter- that label of “parents”. Because as much as he loved May, and she loved him and she’d parented him since he was almost five years old… she wasn’t his parent. And everyone knew that, and with that came the look. Peter hated that look, Tony knew. Tony hated it too, having received some version of it himself over the years. Pitying the poor orphan.
At least Tony hadn’t been a child when he’d lost his parents.
“Ok,” he said finally, not sure what else to say.
Maybe May couldn’t come? She missed a fair amount of Peter’s school events, thanks to the nature of her job, especially since Ben’s death. And Peter understood, because he was Peter and he always did. But it must suck at times.
“And you’re overcome with the misery of having to bring a dish that is gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, basically taste-free to accommodate everyone’s dietary requirements?” Tony guessed.
Peter looked over at Tony. “May’s so busy. She’s been working all these extra shifts lately and I can’t ask her to give up the little free time she has to cook something. Not for some dumb school thing. And you know… May isn’t the best cook,” he muttered.
Having sampled May Parker’s cooking frequently over the past eleven months since May had discovered Peter was Spider-Man and Tony’s life had been thoroughly, irreversibly entangled with the Parkers (and was entirely better for it), Tony couldn’t help but grimace faintly.
“See?” Peter said miserably, staring back at the table and his shoulders impossibly dropping even further. “I mean, it doesn’t really matter to me, but some of the kids in my class are jerks. May doesn’t deserve to waste her time cooking for them to be assholes about it.”
Tony guessed by “kids” he mostly meant Flash. He suppressed a sigh. Of course Peter would rather drop Decathlon than ask his aunt to contribute something or risk offending her cooking skills.
“And so you think dropping Decathlon entirely is the best solution here?” Tony asked, a little incredulously.
“MJ wants the whole team there. Even Mr Harrington’s going. It’s all, like, team bonding. Showing dedication to the team,” Peter said miserably.
Tony let out a breath. Peter balancing his two lives- Peter Parker and Spider-Man- had been a whole undertaking this past year. It was something May had insisted upon after everything that had happened during the Vulture.
“So, you agree to go. And then, very tragically get food poisoning the night before,” Tony said, nudging Peter’s side lightly.
Peter shook his head. “MJ would know I’m lying. She always knows… somehow.”
Tony’s lips lifted into a fond smile. “Because you suck at it, Pete.”
Peter glared at him faintly for a moment.
Tony opened his mouth to suggest just buying something and passing it off as homemade, but Peter spoke again before he could.
“Whenever we had bake sales and stuff at school,” he said, his eyes rather unseeing as they gazed at some distant spot across the lab. “May always wants to help out, you know? And May’s a better baker than a cook, but they usually ended up… not great,” he said carefully.
“I never wanted to hurt her feelings. We always said it didn’t matter if the cookies were a little burnt, or the brownies were dry. Because you could just cover everything in frosting and as long as it looked ok, no one would know until after they bought it.”
It was the ‘we’ that had Tony holding his breath, listening intently.
“Ben always insisted on driving me to school on those days,” Peter practically whispered. “Saying it was so I didn’t have to carry whatever it was. And then we’d stop somewhere on the way, and buy something good. We’d put it on the plate May gave me and Ben would take the crappy stuff to work with him. He said the other cops were used to eating May’s cooking. We never told May.”
Tony’s heart broke as Peter’s voice cracked slightly, pulling the kid into a hug without hesitation. It all made sense to him now. This wasn’t just about a dinner, and the idea of having to bring something that was… well, inedible was a strong word. It was about a familiar routine that Peter had shared with his uncle, who now wasn’t here.
Tony understood that more than he was sure Peter knew.
“Bud, I don’t think quitting Decathlon is the answer,” he said carefully. “You know why?”
“Because it looks good on college applications?” Peter guessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was pressed against Tony’s shoulder.
Tony rolled his eyes, pulling back so that he could see Peter’s face. “Because you enjoy it,” he corrected him. “Am I wrong in that? Do you still enjoy it?”
Peter hesitated. “We’ve only been back at school for two weeks-”
“Peter.”
Peter sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted.
Tony squeezed his shoulder. “Ok. So don’t hand in that super stylish yellow blazer just yet, kid. When’s this dinner?”
“Saturday night,” Peter answered, his eyes narrowing at Tony. “You know I don’t get to pick the colour of the blazers, right?”
“I said nothing,” Tony protested innocently. “Tell MJ you’ll be at the dinner. And we’ll think of something. Ok?”
Peter looked more sceptical than Tony thought was warranted.
“We will?”
“Hey, I’m a genius,” Tony reminded him. “You’re pretty smart yourself,” he added teasingly just to make Peter roll his eyes at him. “I’m sure we can think of something before Saturday.”
Peter didn’t at all look convinced.
“How exactly were you planning on explaining this to May?” Tony asked curiously. “Surely she wouldn’t be ok with you quitting Decathlon?”
Peter winced faintly. “Uh…”
Tony shot him a knowing look. “Wow. You were just gonna throw me, your dear old mentor, under the bus, huh?”
Peter’s eyes widened. “What? No!”
“Right,” Tony replied, a hint of teasing in his voice so Peter would know he wasn’t really annoyed. “So, thinking May wouldn’t know if you were patrolling instead of at Decathlon practice every week; knowing that I get notified when you put the suit on, and knowing that May has promised to take my head off if I keep any more secrets from her where Spider-Man is concerned. What do you call that, then?”
Peter paused, clearly thinking for a way out of that.
“If I quit Decathlon, that’s more a Peter thing-” he tried, but Tony shook his head.
“Not if you’re patrolling it’s not. Not when you come home with a broken bone, or a knife wound or whatever happened with ‘this nail’ that I’m not even going to ask about, unless you need a tetanus shot or something,” he said, his eyes scanning Peter for any injuries he may have missed.
Peter sighed. “I’m fine, Mr Stark. It only tore the suit, not skin,” he promised.
Tony decided to take Peter on his word at that. For now, anyway. He reserved the right to check the Baby Monitor footage after Peter left, for his own peace of mind.
“Still. You get my point, right?”
“Yeah,” Peter agreed glumly.
“I’m guessing May doesn’t know about this dinner then?”
Peter shook his head. “I only got told today. May’s working a double this weekend anyway,” he shrugged. “She wouldn’t be able to come even if she knew. And then she’d feel bad.”
He glanced at his watch and then got to his feet. “I should go.”
“Want a ride?” Tony offered but Peter shook his head again.
“It’s ok, Mr Stark. I’ll get the subway.”
Tony didn’t argue with the kid. “Alright. We’ll think of something,” he promised. “And if all else fails-”
“Food poisoning,” Peter said with a weak smile. “Very tragic. Got it.”
Tony rubbed at his face once he was alone again. There was something of an idea in his brain, but he was hesitant to actually go through with it.
This could be overstepping a line. And even if it wasn’t, it was still a big move.
But the look on Peter’s face kinda made the decision for him in the end.
🕷
Mr Stark: Pick you up at three.
No matter how many times Peter read the text, it still made no sense to him. He’d sent back a ‘???’ in reply, but Tony hadn’t answered.
Peter could only assume that Tony had thought of some idea to get him out of the Decathlon team dinner that night, but when his mentor had been so insistent on Thursday that he go to the dinner… Peter was confused.
Nonetheless, he’d assured MJ that he’d be at Cindy’s house for dinner- her parents had offered to host the event- and then last night when talking to Ned, he’d been sure to mention that May had made something for dinner that tasted “off.” With some of May’s cooking, that wasn’t a clear foreshadowing of “food poisoning”- as Ned knew perfectly well- but it laid some groundwork in case Peter needed the excuse.
Despite his cluelessness and slight wariness- because really, if he’d learned anything in the past year it was that one never knew exactly what Tony Stark had planned- Peter was obediently ready and waiting at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon when Tony picked him up.
“What are we doing?” Peter asked the moment Tony pulled away from the curb.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Hey, Pete. I’m doing well, thanks. How are you?” he asked sarcastically.
Peter just scowled at him. “Mr Stark.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Tony scolded him. “Chill, Underoos.”
Peter just sighed.
When they arrived back at the Tower, Tony steered Peter over to the kitchen. There was a rather old looking leather-bound notebook lying on the counter, which Peter eyed curiously as Tony nudged it towards him. Peter opened it carefully, finding the pages filled with an elegant cursive handwriting that looked more like a font than actual handwriting.
“Wow,” he said. “This is like, the nicest handwriting I’ve ever seen.”
Tony chuckled. “Yep,” he agreed. “It’s my grandmother’s handwriting.”
Peter’s eyes widened as he looked up at Tony. “What?”
Tony nodded nonchalantly, flicking through a few pages. “It’s all been passed down. That’s my mom’s,” he pointed out as the page reflected a different, equally elegant handwriting.
“And if you go back,” Tony turned to pages near the beginning. “That’s my great-grandmother. Mostly in Italian- you can actually see her learning English as it goes.”
That’s when Peter noticed it. “They’re recipes.”
“Very observant, kiddo,” Tony said teasingly.
Tony shifted a little, looking through the pages of the notebook rather than at Peter.
“I can’t guarantee anything will turn out better than May’s cooking,” Tony warned him and Peter froze, Tony’s intention in bringing him here only now clicking. “It’s been a while since I made anything from here. But I think between the two of us-”
Tony was cut off as Peter practically threw himself onto Tony in a tight hug.
“Pete?” Tony asked, more tentative than Peter had ever heard him speak before, even as his arms wound round Peter firmly.
“You’re the best,” Peter mumbled.
He felt Tony relax, his grip on Peter tightening. “What, you just realised that? Where’ve you been?” he joked, and then he pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head.
Peter hummed slightly, melting a little as a flood of warmth spread from head to toe at the gesture. Tony hadn’t done that before. Tony didn’t pull away from the hug as Peter had expected, he just gently ran his hand through Peter’s hair until Peter moved.
“Alright, bud. What do you want to make?”
Peter had no idea.
They eventually settled on a risotto that Tony assured Peter would be good for a potluck dinner, and then Tony started pulling things out of cupboards.
“Did your mom cook a lot?” Peter asked, a little tentatively.
He could only think of a few times since he’d met Tony that he had spoken about his parents. Usually his father, and rarely in a positive light. But Peter always had the feeling that Tony didn’t talk about his mother because it was painful to think of her. Peter could understand that.
“Not as much as I think she wanted to,” Tony answered readily, still rummaging around the kitchen. “Mostly when my dad was away. We had a cook when I was a kid. God, I hated him.”
“Why?”
“I asked him for a cheeseburger once, and you would’ve thought I asked him to serve dog shit,” Tony complained and Peter snorted.
As they worked, they swapped stories. Tony told him more about the cook his parents had employed, or stories about his mother or Jarvis cooking. In turn, Peter told him about some of the disasters May had managed to create in the kitchen.
“Your dad couldn’t cook?” Peter asked, after forty-five minutes of working up the courage to even ask about Howard Stark.
“I don’t think it was that he couldn’t, but that he wouldn’t,” Tony corrected him. “He grew up on the Lower East Side and worked his way up. My grandparents were a fruit seller and a seamstress. Once Dad made his money, why should he have to cook when he could pay someone to do it for him?”
For all that Peter could practically recite Tony Stark’s life story from the time he was about eight or nine, he’d never really given much thought to Tony’s parents or ancestors. He’d certainly never given much thought to where Howard Stark had grown up.
“Oh,” Peter said, not really sure what to say to that.
Since Tony had been mentoring him, Peter had always found him to be a good teacher when it came to things in the lab. As it turned out, Tony was also a pretty good teacher in the kitchen.
By the time the risotto was done, Peter was reasonably sure he wouldn’t accidentally poison any of his teammates.
“Try it,” Tony urged, handing him a spoon.
Peter did so tentatively. He’d had risotto before at Italian restaurants, although if they got Italian he usually ordered pasta or pizza. And he’d tried May’s risotto- or rather her attempt at risotto. Like Tony, May’s mother’s family was also Italian and sometimes May got nostalgic for dishes her grandparents had used to make. Unlike Tony, she didn’t have her grandparents’ recipes to guide her.
What Peter put in his mouth was way better than May’s risotto, and even better than their local Italian restaurant. He beamed at Tony as he swallowed the spoonful.
“That’s really good,” he said, a little awed.
Tony’s eyes crinkled in the corner with warmth as he smiled at Peter, snagging a spoonful for himself.
“Not bad,” he allowed, once he’d chewed a bit. “Good enough for your Decathlon team, at least.”
They’d made a double batch, considering the number of people that would be attending, and Tony scooped out a portion into a small container before transferring the rest of it into a serving dish.
“One for Pep,” he explained to Peter, storing it in the fridge. “Alright, kid. I’ll give you a ride to dinner.”
Peter agreed readily, because it would have been a pain to carry the risotto on the subway to Cindy’s house. His head was still reeling a little with the gesture Tony had made for him today, just another thing on the list that Tony had done for him that Peter had no idea how he could ever repay.
Cindy lived out in the suburbs of Forest Hills. Peter had been to her house only once before; for her birthday party in freshman year, if he remembered right. It was a very nice house.
“Call me if you need a ride home, alright?” Tony told him as he turned into Cindy’s street.
“I can probably get a ride home with Ned and his parents,” Peter reassured him.
“Still. I mean it, Underoos. Ok?” Tony said seriously, knowing as well as Peter did that he was unlikely to call.
Peter could never quite shake the feeling like he was bugging Tony with things like that.
“Ok,” he replied dutifully. He hated the thought that Tony would return home, only to have to drive all the way back out to Queens again in a few hours to take him home.
Peter hesitated as Tony pulled up outside the house, a crazy idea occurring to him. He couldn’t stop his face from warming up at the very thought of asking.
“Do you want to come in?” he blurted out and then froze at the visible look of surprise that flickered over Tony’s face.
“I mean, you don’t have to,” he said hastily. “You’re busy, I know. I just-”
He stopped as Tony reached across the centre console to grasp his shoulder lightly. “Kid, I am honestly this close to tattooing a reminder on your forehead that I am never too busy for you. For anything.”
Peter managed a weak smile. “I don’t think May would agree to that.”
“Hm, I’m pretty sure I could get her on board,” Tony replied. He cut the engine and Peter’s heart lifted more than he could put into words.
Peter was usually pretty careful to keep his “Peter Parker” life separate from his “Spider-Man” life. Of course, May and Ned were in both worlds, but Peter always tried to keep a low profile at school. He got enough attention from having his “internship” with Tony, even if most people (namely, Flash) doubted it existed.
Showing up to dinner with Tony in tow was absolutely going to bring attention to him, and they both knew it. But after what Tony had done, giving up his Saturday afternoon for this, sharing this bit of his past with Peter, teaching him to cook simply because Peter couldn’t bear to tell May about the dinner or face the painful memories of Ben… it meant a lot. Peter was sure he’d never felt more love for Tony than he did right now.
As they walked up the driveway, Tony easily kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. It was comforting.
Peter rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, it was MJ who answered the door. To her credit, her only visible acknowledgement of surprise to see Tony Stark at Peter’s side was a slight arch of an eyebrow.
“Hey,” she greeted them nonchalantly.
Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Hey,” he replied. “This is Michelle,” he told Tony.
He knew better than to introduce her as “MJ” to anyone that she didn’t consider a friend.
MJ held out a hand to Tony calmly. “Michelle Jones.”
“Tony Stark,” Tony replied, shaking MJ’s hand with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Michelle.”
Her head tilted slightly. “Finally?” she repeated.
Peter’s face warmed again, sure that Tony was going to say something highly embarrassing, but Tony just squeezed his shoulder lightly.
“Pete’s always talking about his friends,” he said simply. “I like putting faces to names.”
MJ’s eyes flickered between Tony and Peter for a moment and then she shrugged. “I could say the same, considering he doesn’t shut up about you, but we all know your face,” she said. “Come on in.”
Peter didn’t have to look at Tony to know that Tony was grinning widely as they followed MJ inside.
“I hate you,” he murmured under his breath.
Tony snorted just as quietly. “Sure you do, kiddo.”
When they stepped into the large open plan kitchen and dining room where everyone seemed to be gathered, all conversations faltered as they took in who was with Peter.
Only for a beat and then Ned- God bless Ned- piped up almost immediately, his face alight with joy.
“Hey Peter! Hi, Mr Stark!”
Ned, at least, had met Tony before- albeit very briefly when Tony had stopped by the apartment when Ned was over.
“Hi, Ned,” Tony greeted him easily as Ned hurried over to them. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” Ned beamed, turning to Peter. “That smells awesome. What is it?”
“Risotto,” Peter answered. “Mr Stark helped me.”
“May’s working?” Ned guessed.
“Double shift,” Peter nodded and Ned made a face.
Ned beckoned his parents over to introduce them to Tony, which allowed him to drag Peter over to put the risotto with the other dishes of food that covered the table.
“Oh my God,” Ned breathed. “You brought Iron Man to dinner? And didn’t tell me!”
Peter glanced back over his shoulder to see Mr Harrington had joined Tony and Ned’s parents and he seemed comfortable enough.
“Dude,” Tyler greeted Peter, his jaw agape.
His teammates seemed equally in awe, except for Flash, who just seemed furious. Peter shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it all.
“My aunt had to work this weekend,” he explained. “And I can’t cook. Mr Stark offered to help when he heard so I could bring something. The least I could do was invite him to eat with us. Is that ok?”
“Um, duh,” Abe replied. “We get to have dinner with Iron Man. Of course that’s ok!”
Peter couldn’t help but grin.
When everyone had filled their plates, Peter made a beeline back to Tony’s side to eat, Ned quick to follow.
Tony smiled softly at Peter as he sat beside him. “You good, kid?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah,” he said simply.
It wasn’t long before Cindy worked up the courage to ask Tony a question, and that broke the ice for everyone else. Peter tensed a bit at first, waiting for someone to ask about the Accords or the Rogue Avengers, or something inappropriate. Waiting for it to become an interrogation more than a conversation.
But it never happened, and Tony readily answered most questions, only really joking his way out of answering when Abe asked a question about the Iron Man suit that Tony said was “classified.”
Flash had been almost silent the whole night, staring daggers at Peter. He couldn’t really or do anything, not with Tony right there and surrounded by so many adults; although it hadn’t escaped Peter’s notice that his own parents didn’t seem to be there. But Peter was sure something would be said at school on Monday.
“I thought Stark Industries didn’t offer internships to high school kids,” Flash blurted out over dessert.
Peter tensed, but Tony barely blinked.
“Peter’s not an SI intern. He’s my personal intern,” he said, taking another bite of his slice cheesecake that Ned’s mother had made. “There’s a difference.”
Tyler’s mom frowned slightly. “That can’t be normal.”
Tony shrugged. “Probably not. But Peter’s not your normal kid,” he said, shooting a fond glance at Peter, who reddened.
“Mr Stark,” he muttered embarrassedly.
“Peter’s always very tight-lipped about what he does exactly,” Mr Harrington chimed in. “I’m not even sure he’s said how you met.”
Peter winced slightly, but Tony merely shrugged. “Most of what we work on in the lab is classified- Avenger’s tech,” he said.
Most eyes in the room widened at that; even Ned, who Peter did usually tell at least some of what he and Tony worked on.
“I’ve always got an ear out for bright kids who have a gift for science and tech,” Tony continued.
Flash looked positively murderous by this point.
Maybe Peter could feign food poisoning to skip school on Monday.
By the time people started leaving, Tony had charmed all the parents in the room and Mr Harrington (his classmates hardly needed charming. Well, except maybe MJ). He’d even managed to wrangle a promise from Ned’s mother to get the recipe for the cheesecake she’d made- for Pepper, he’d said- and Peter really thought Ned was going to faint at the thought of playing messenger between his mother and Iron Man over a cheesecake recipe.
There wasn’t much leftover risotto. Peter honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because people had liked it, or because they wanted to be able to say they’d eaten a risotto cooked by Iron Man. Either way, Tony accepted a container from Cindy’s mother to spoon the leftovers into, and he handed it to Peter.
“Save it for May,” he warned him.
Peter looked at him innocently. “What else would I do with it?”
“You, the human garbage disposal? Hm, let me think,” Tony teased him.
Peter rolled his eyes at him. “We should have made more,” he said ruefully, eyeing the container.
Tony shrugged. “We’ll make it the next time you and May come for dinner,” he said as though this was a given.
Which yeah, the four of them had dinner together maybe once a month or so- depending on schedules- but it was far from the common occurrence Tony’s words suggested.
Peter’s eyes lit up though. “Can Pepper make those banoffee pie things again?” he asked eagerly, pulling on his jacket.
Tony’s lips quirked. “I’m sure we can convince her,” he agreed.
“Why is Miss Potts ‘Pepper’ but he calls you ‘Mr Stark’?” Cindy asked, entering the kitchen with more dishes.
Tony glared at Peter lightly. “An excellent question.”
It was a point of contention between them.
Peter just shrugged. “Pepper’s scarier than you?” he offered.
“Well, I’ll give you that,” Tony agreed. “Come on, bud. Let’s get you home.”
‘Bud?!’ mouthed Tyler as Peter passed him, grinning widely.
Peter wasn’t even embarrassed by that. At least Tony hadn’t called him Underoos in front of everyone. And he liked when Tony called him ‘bud’. It always felt like a hug.
Although there was absolutely no need for him to do so, Peter didn’t protest when Tony insisted on walking him up to the apartment. He knew neither Tony nor May was thrilled when Peter was home alone, especially at night. Honestly, Peter didn’t love it either.
Sometimes Peter got lucky and could stay at the Tower on these nights. He’d been so preoccupied by the dinner that he hadn’t even thought to ask about staying this weekend.
“Alright, Spiderling,” Tony said, once he’d apparently satisfied himself that there were no dangers lurking in the apartment. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Peter nodded, placing the container with the leftover risotto in the fridge for May. “Yeah.”
Tony smiled and ruffled his hair before heading for the door.
“Mr Stark?”
Peter hugged Tony furiously the moment Tony turned, burying his face against his shoulder.
“Love you,” Peter said, his heart in his throat.
He wasn’t really surprised when Tony froze a little. He knew Tony cared about him, and Tony knew Peter cared about him, but they didn’t say it. Not directly.
But then Tony’s arms tightened around him and for the second time that day, Tony dropped a kiss against Peter’s hair.
“I love you too, Underoos,” Tony murmured. “So much.”
Peter beamed, even if Tony couldn’t see it.
He knew he’d have to explain to May about the dinner when she got him, because she’d wonder where the risotto came from. And he was kind of dreading school on Monday, knowing everyone would be talking about Tony coming to dinner and Flash would be unbearable.
But it was all worth it for this. Peter could deal with anything with Tony in his corner.